


Take Advantage of the Dark

by jessikast



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (just a little), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley is Ashtoreth but he/him pronouns, Established Relationship, F/M, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, NSFW, PWP, Praise Kink, Roleplay, Sex, Sex in the Dark, Trapped In A Closet, Well Ineffable Spouses because Crowley's mostly female
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21859192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessikast/pseuds/jessikast
Summary: Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis are trapped in a closet by an ambitiously-matchmaking (not-)antchrist. However will they occupy their time?(Spoiler: they have sex.)The closet door closed behind Crowley with an ominous click of a lock turning and a high-pitched giggle. “Okay, you guys just…stay in there now!” The faint beeping sound of buttons on a digital watch being pressed. “I’ll come back in half an hour!” Footsteps running away, and Crowley sighed.One of the coats in the closet was warm, angel-shaped, and smelled comfortingly familiar. “Cro-Ashtoreth? Is that you?” Aziraphale murmured into the back of the closet.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Nanny Ashtoreth/Brother Francis (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 250
Collections: Hot Omens, Oh Come All Ye Sinful! A Depraved Holiday Exchange 2019, Top Aziraphale Recs





	Take Advantage of the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sssnakelady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sssnakelady/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, CeeJay! I love an excuse to write a little Ashtoreth/Francis, I hope it tickles your fancy :-)
> 
> Tagged M/M since both parties are using male pronouns, but tagged M/F for the genital combination during sex.

The closet door closed behind Crowley with an ominous click of a lock turning and a high-pitched giggle. “Okay, you guys just…stay in there now!” The faint beeping sound of buttons on a digital watch being pressed. “I’ll come back in half an hour!” Footsteps running away, and Crowley sighed.

One of the coats in the closet was warm, angel-shaped, and smelled comfortingly familiar. “Cro-Ashtoreth? Is that you?” Aziraphale murmured into the back of the closet.

“Of course it’s me, angel.” Crowley tried to turn around towards the door but it was difficult – this tiny coat closet was an afterthought in a largely-untrafficked hallway, barely a metre square and filled with bulky rarely-worn winter coats. Aziraphale muffled an exclamation as one of Crowley’s sensible black heels kicked his ankle. Crowley gave up, and just stood back far enough that Aziraphale could turn around. Barely any light squeezed through the crack around the door, but Crowley let his eyes relax and slit pupils open wide, and he could just make out the pale shapes of Aziraphale’s gardener smock and white-blond hair.

“I don’t suppose you know what’s behind Warlock’s little plan, do you?” Aziraphale asked, in that slightly prissy way he had when he considered himself inconvenienced. Crowley would never admit it, but almost-bitchy Aziraphale was his favourite Aziraphale.

“He watched some trite American movie, one of those ones where the precocious child plays matchmaker. Locking people in a room together.”

“Ah.”

“He told _me_ he wanted a pair of boots from the back of the closet, that he thought their heels had particularly good world-grinding properties.” Crowley’s mouth twisted a little: on the one hand he was proud of the Antichrist for being so sneaky; on the other he was not amused at having _fallen_ for the sneakiness.

“He told me he thought there was a nest of orphaned mice in here. Shall we just….?” Crowley felt Aziraphale’s hand lift, could just make out where he was holding it up, poised to snap and create a miracle. He opened his mouth to agree, then let his breath out in a huff of annoyance.

“I hate to say it, but probably not. It’s not like this does anything but annoy us. He’ll be back in an hour – if he doesn’t we can miracle ourselves out, say the lock broke.” Aziraphale lowered his hand with a sigh.

“Oh, I suppose you _do_ want to encourage that kind of mischievousness, don’t you?” Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, then shifted impatiently. Crowley was always amused that Aziraphale was so _bad_ at patience. Oh yes, he was quite happy spending time quietly with a cup of tea in a comfy chair, but that was Aziraphale actively _enjoying_ the luxury of doing nothing. Crowley was far better at waiting, still and quiet, the patience of a cold-blooded predator. (A cold-blooded predator with an excellent mattress and high-thread-count sheets, granted.) But Aziraphale was terrible at it – probably how he got into the whole Eden situation at the first time. Asking this particular angel to do nothing but stand on a wall and guard? No wonder he got distracted with the first humans.

“So, young Warlock is trying to…’set us up’?”

“Yup,” said Crowley, popping the p on the word.

“Why _us_?”

Crowley shrugged, even though Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to see it. “Who else? The rest of the staff are either married, or not likely to let Warlock lure them into an enclosed space.”

“So he expects to lock us in here, come back in an hour and find us cinched in an embrace?”

“That’s the theory.”

Aziraphale shifted his weight, fidgeting. “…I suppose it would be cruel to disappoint him, wouldn’t it?”

Crowley took a second to parse that, and his mouth opened in a grin of surprised delight. “Why, angel, are you saying that we should _make an Effort_?”

“Purely for the boy’s sake, of course!”

“Oh, of _course_. You’re just bored of being saintly Brother Francis. You miss-“

“Not at all!” Aziraphale blustered “Brother Francis is a lovely persona! I just…well, I suppose I do miss our little get-togethers of an evening.”

“You mean you miss getting drunk and fucking.”

Aziraphale said nothing. Crowley couldn’t see his blush but fancied he could feel the heat of the blood that had rushed to Aziraphale’s cheeks. He flickered out a forked tongue. Yep. Blushing.

Crowley smirked. “Well, if it’s for _the boy_ …” He reached out with one long finger and gently pushed Aziraphale back and around til he was leaning against one side of the closet, then in the small space Crowley turned around until he was standing with his back to Aziraphale. He wriggled his arse a little so it was nestled deliberately against the angel’s crotch and turned to look archly over his shoulder.

“Oh, Brother Francis!” he said breathlessly in his soft Scottish accent. “Is that a…” Crowley’s imagination failed him briefly for a moment. “…a garden trowel in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

“It _is_ a trowel actually-“ Aziraphale started. Crowley hissed at him. “Oh. Oh! I see! Ah…” Crowley felt the faint shiver on his skin that was ethereal power making an Effort about things in close proximity to him. “Please forgive me, Nanny Ashtoreth, this is such an embarrassing situation, I’m ever so sorry…”

Aziraphale’s bashful words were belied by the fingers Crowley could feel sliding forward over his hip to pull him back firmly against what was definitely _not_ a trowel. He wriggled happily, feeling his cunt tingle in anticipation. “Not to worry, dear Brother Francis. I understand these things happen, can’t be helped. But _do_ call me Lillith.” He leaned forward while he was talking and braced one forearm against the wall in front of him, the other hand reaching back to rest encouragingly on Aziraphale’s hand on his hip.

Aziraphale’s hips twitched a little. “Lillith. Then you must call me Francis. Given the situation.” The angel’s other hand came forward to rest on Crowley’s waist, fingers gliding over the silk blouse, edging up to the bottom edge of Crowley’s brassiere.

Crowley bit his lip. In the absence of vision all his other senses felt heightened. His nerves were singing under Aziraphale’s fingertips; he could _taste_ the scent of their perspiration and arousal in the stuffy, warm air of the closet, stronger than the musty coats that surrounded them; he could hear Aziraphale’s breath quickening, a little wet sound as the angel licked his lips.

“My, it’s a little warm in here, isn’t it?” Crowley tilted his head to the side and pulled his red curls away from the back of his neck. “You wouldn’t mind if I undid a button or two, would you, dear Francis?”

Aziraphale had drawn in a sharp breath and leaned forward slightly to run his nose and lips over the knobs of Crowley’s spine where they rose out of the collar of his blouse. “Oh, not at all, my dear girl,” he murmured against Crowley’s skin.

Crowley shivered a little – those blasted sideburns tickled! – and undid two…no, three buttons. Enough that his blouse fell mostly open, held in place where it was tucked neatly into his skirt, but falling back over his shoulders. Aziraphale kept his hold firmly on Crowley’s hip, the other hand slid over Crowley’s waist to rest flat against his stomach, hand spread wide and thumb sitting just against the lower curve of one breast where it was covered by the black lacy brassiere. (Ashtoreth generally favoured _sensible_ as an aesthetic, but she had her little vices.) Crowley tilted his head more to the side to give the angel better access as he kissed his way gently across the pale skin and freckles of demon’s shoulder, pushing the bra strap down over his shoulder as he went.

Crowley’s eyes slid closed, and he licked his lips. _Perfect_. The contrast of the firm, confident hands holding him close, and the gentle, almost sweet kisses.

“Do let me know if there is _anything_ I can do to aid you in your…discomfort, Francis,” he said, arching his back a little so his arse rubbed against Aziraphale’s cock. “We must all worth together, after all.”

“Well,” said Aziraphale, and the hand resting on Crowley’s stomach slid downward until he could grab the hem of Crowley’s skirt and pull it up a little. “I would be no kind of gentleman if I refused such a kind offer of help…”

Crowley let out a breathless laugh which choked into a moan as Aziraphale kept pulling his skirt up, fingers pausing to stroke the bare skin at the top of Crowley’s stockings, on the inside edge of his suspenders. “No…no kind of gentleman at allllll…!” He broke off into a whine as Aziraphale’s fingers stroked gently up the sensitive inner skin of his thigh, right up to where his silky panties were growing damp against his cunt.

He could feel Aziraphale’s satisfied amusement, and with slight annoyance realised that he had lost the upper hand. Panting slightly, he groped back with one hand until he could set his palm firmly over the bulge in Aziraphale’s rough trousers. He gave a nice firm squeeze, then - satisfied with Aziraphale’s sharply drawn-in breath - twisted his wrist until he could nimbly undo the buttons and pull open the fly. He pushed down the waistband of the boxers the angel wore (he couldn’t see them, but would have laid good money that they were tartan), and drew out Aziraphale’s cock before rubbing his panty-clad arse up and down against it.

Aziraphale breath shook, and he resumed his lovely firm grip on Crowley’s hips, skirt rucked high around his waist. “Cro-…Lillith,” he sighed, and his cock nudged deliciously against the wet gusset of Crowley’s panties.

Crowley felt his toes curl and stomach tighten in anticipation, and he managed to spread his legs a little more. With the hand that wasn’t bracing himself against the wall he trailed his fingers over his own skin, his chest, fingernails scratching lightly over the edge of the brassiere, and sharply pinching one nipple through the lace.

Aziraphale must have felt what he was doing to himself, because he made a small sound of want behind Crowley, and one hand left the demon’s hip to follow the edge of the panties across his arse, index finger tucked just under the elastic, until it went between Crowley’s thighs and up to his cunt. _Fuck_ , Crowley was so wet, Aziraphale’s finger slipped right up along his lips, skidding next to his clit. He bit back a whimper, and pressed his arse back against Aziraphale’s cock.

“Come _on_ , angel. Francis. We don’t have time to tease-“

“Oh no, I wouldn’t keep a lady waiting,” said Aziraphale, accent forgotten, and he pulled Crowley’s panties aside to expose his cunt. Crowley groaned, feeling exposed, and then groaned again feeling the head of Aziraphale’s cock slipping against his cunt, nudging his sensitive entrance, entering him – but not _fucking_ far enough.

Unfortunately, Crowley was taller than Aziraphale, and that was even before Nanny Ashtoreth’s stylish-but-still-sensible heeled boots added an inch or two to his height. Crowley tried to spread his legs wider, tried to angle himself better, but it was no good – there was no way for Aziraphale fuck him from behind in this small space. He whimpered in frustration, and was slightly mollified when Aziraphale said “Yes, quite” in an equally frustrated tone, giving one last tantalisingly shallow thrust.

Crowley sighed, stood up and turned, putting his back against the wall. “Come here,” he said, reaching out to pull the angle into him, one leg coming up to wrap around Aziraphale’s hip. “Yes, like that, _just_ like that, oh fuck,” he continued, Aziraphale shuffling forward and pressing Crowley back against the wall. He lifted Crowley slightly, lovely strong hands under Crowley’s arse and pulling his panties aside again. Crowley lifted his other leg, letting the angel hold his weight – Aziraphale was so fantastically _solid_ , and it made Crowley’s stomach twist in arousal to really _feel_ how strong he was.

Crowley was pinned between the wall and Aziraphale’s hands, and his head thumped backwards as Aziraphale lowered him onto his cock. Oh _yes_ , this was the idea, this was perfect. Aziraphale was so deep inside him, fingers digging into the place where Crowley’s arse met his stocking-clad thighs. Aziraphale paused for a moment, breathing deeply, before starting to gently rock against him. Crowley held onto Aziraphale’s shoulder with one hand, and shoved his other hand against his mouth, biting onto the edge of his palm to muffle his helpless moans as Aziraphale’s movements rocked steadily against his clit and his lovely thick cock pulled out _just_ far enough to feel truly satisfying when it slammed in again.

Aziraphale had buried his face in the crook of Crowley’s neck, and as his pace picked up he was murmuring constantly and indistinctly. “Oh, my dear, Crowley, you feel so good, I’ve missed this, I’ve missed _you_ , Lillith, your cunt feels so good, it’s been so long since we’ve done it like this, isn’t it, oh just look at you, I can just see your tits, only just, oh you must let me do this again later when I can see you, properly see all of you, you’re so beautiful, so good…”

Crowley felt his thighs starting to shake, and he tightened his grip around Aziraphale’s neck. He closed his eyes, and let Aziraphale’s voice wash over him as he came, biting his hand hard enough that he tasted a little blood as he came, cunt clenching around Aziraphale’s cock and his legs compulsively pulling Aziraphale in tight. Aziraphale had gasped as Crowley’s back had arched while he came, and then it was his turn, hips working furiously for few seconds as he thrust harder and faster then coming, fingers digging into Crowley’s thighs.

Crowley thought was going to have bruises. He was rather pleased by the thought.

Aziraphale held Crowley up against the wall for a few minutes while they both caught their breath, panting into the quiet dark together. Crowley let first one leg, then the other slide back down, Aziraphale’s softening cock slipping out with a wet trickle of come leaking out after it. Aziraphale smiled slightly into the dark as Aziraphale gently and carefully pulled his panties back into place, straightened his suspenders, and pulled his skirt down, smoothing it neatly into place.

He reached up to start doing up the buttons of Crowley’s blouse, but Crowley put his hands over Aziraphale’s to stop him for a moment, not wanting the moment of intimacy over quite yet. There was something about being in the dark together, not even able to see the other’s expression, but just being so close in together… Aziraphale lifted one hand to Crowley’s face, letting his thumb run over Crowley’s lips. “Lillith,” he said quietly. “You’ve been such a help to a silly old gardner. Could I interest you in a little nightcap in my cottage later?”

Crowley smiled, and licked the pad of the angel’s thumb where it rested against his lip. “Of course, that would be delightful,” he said primly, tone at odds with the way his tongue flicked out and wound itself briefly and lewdly around the tip of Aziraphale’s thumb. Even spent, he felt Aziraphale shiver and his cock twitch against his thigh.

“Well then!” said Aziraphale. He straightened, standing back a little, and raised a hand again. “May I?” Crowley made a hum of agreement and Aziraphale snapped. Clothes were abruptly straightened and cleaned, Crowley’s cunt no longer wet and leaking, his mussed hair sitting in curls neatly against his neck.

Crowley reached forward and groped in the dark til he caught Aziraphale’s hand, and laced their fingers together. “I think it must nearly be time for Warlock to come and ‘catch’ us,” he said. “Shall we?”

And so, when Warlock tiptoed back to unlock the closet and throw the door open, he was thrilled to see his beloved Nanny Ashtoreth and funny Brother Francis pulling back from a kiss. _Just_ like in the movies! He was a matchmaking _genius_.


End file.
